


A Very Hernst Chanukah

by musicalkiddo



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, How original, M/M, as i've said before: i imagine myself a country rabbi, i know it's a cliche but i am awful at titles!!, it's chanukah and things r adorable, just think that's the line and this whole thing works, so this is the same title as my valentine's day fic but i.. changed the holiday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 17:03:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9081598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalkiddo/pseuds/musicalkiddo
Summary: Hanschen wasn’t sure what he was more worried about- the unfamiliar religion or the presence of a loving family.  He’d spent hours reading up on the history of Chanukah and memorizing the prayers, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t embarrass himself in front of everybody.  How was he supposed to get things right when he couldn’t even figure out how to spell the name of the holiday?





	

Hanschen wasn’t sure what he was more worried about- the unfamiliar religion or the presence of a loving family.  He’d spent hours reading up on the history of Chanukah and memorizing the prayers, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t embarrass himself in front of everybody.  How was he supposed to get things right when he couldn’t even figure out how to spell the name of the holiday?  And then there were the Robels to worry about.  No amount of Googling could teach Hanschen how his boyfriend’s family would react to him, or what kind of questions they’d ask.  Sure, Hanschen had experienced his share of family holidays.  But his super conservative parents didn’t even know he was gay until last year, and Ernst’s mom was Facebook friends with her son’s ex-boyfriends.

If Ernst hadn’t looked so damn adorable in his Chanukah sweater, Hanschen would’ve bailed.  He had his fingers ready to send the text when Ernst showed up at his door, grinning and holding a rye bread in each of his mittened hands.  He put his phone back into his pocket and grabbed the bouquet of flowers he’d bought.

“Do you think this will be enough for everybody?” Ernst asked.  “People usually only make one sandwich, but I wanted to be safe.”

Ernst’s coat was unbuttoned and his cheeks were flushed from the cold, and Hanschen couldn’t stop himself from kissing him, digging his fingers into his boyfriend’s snow dusted hair.

“We’re gonna be late,” Ernst warned, pulling away and shuffling his boots in the slush.

Hanschen watched their breath mingle together in the air and closed his eyes.  “Sorry.”

Ernst brought their lips together again, briefly.  “I didn’t say I minded.”

“No, no, I don’t want your parents to hate me before I even get there.”

Ernst laughed, and Hanschen shoved his empty hand in his pocket and stepped towards Ernst’s car.

“Wait,” Ernst tucked a bread under his arm and put a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder.  “What’s wrong?”

“Let’s just go, the roads might be icy.”

“Hanschen.”

“What if your family thinks I’m terrible?”

“Are you seriously worried about that?” Ernst’s eyes were wide and confused.

“I don’t have, like, experience with this.  I’ve never met anyone’s family before.  I’m not a family guy or anything.”

“Clearly.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”  Ernst stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Hanschen’s neck carefully so he didn’t squish the loaves of bread or the flowers.  “I just mean that I know your family isn’t like my family.  So I know you don’t understand how worthy of love you are, and how much your stupid degree will impress the hell out of Grandma Carrie, and how my Gramps is going to lose his mind when he finds out you actually follow the stock market.  Do you know how long he’s tried to get me to follow the stock market?”  When Hanschen didn’t answer, Ernst squeezed him into a tighter hug.  “If all else fails, and it won’t, they’ll see how much I love you, and then they’ll love you.  Let’s go, okay?”

Hanschen didn’t get the chance to answer before Ernst climbed into his car and placed the bread carefully on the seat behind him.  “You coming?” he called, fumbling to get the key into the ignition.

Hanschen laughed, sliding in next to Ernst.  He placed the flowers at his feet and rubbed his hands together to warm them up.  He was worried Ernst wouldn’t hear him say, “I love you too,” over the sound of the engine sputtering to a start, but the smile on his face proved that he did.

“For you,” Ernst announced, turning on a radio station that was playing Christmas carols, “because it’s all you’ll get tonight.”

The two hour ride to Ernst’s parents’ house consisted mostly of Hanschen singing along to the radio and changing “Christmas” to “Chanukah,” which Ernst found delightful every time.  Hanschen had never identified more deeply with Mariah Carey than he did on that car ride.

By the time they pulled up to the suburban house with a menorah in the window, Hanschen’s nerves were calmed.

“You carry the bread,” Ernst suggested.  “The way to any Jewish family’s heart is through their stomach.”

“Good to know.”

When Ernst opened the front door, Hanschen could hear laughter from inside and smell oil wafting out.

“Hello?” Ernst called, stepping inside and taking off his boots.  Hanschen followed, toeing off his own snowy shoes.

Ernst’s mom was hugging him before Hanschen had even closed the door behind them, struggling to juggle the bouquet with the loaves of rye bread.  “You are not allowed to be late when you have the bread,” she chastised, pulling away to size her son up.  “Are you getting thinner?  I told Dad that if you-”

“Actually,” Ernst interrupted, “Hanschen has the bread.”

“Oh my god, Hanschen, of course!”  Hanschen tried to extend a hand, but Mrs. Robel was already pulling him into a hug.  “We have heard so much about you, I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Robel.”

“Oh, it’s Lisa, please.  You’re family.”  She noticed the bread Hanschen was holding and grabbed it from him.

“These are for you too,” Hanschen said awkwardly, holding out the flowers he’d brought.  
“Oh you are absolutely too much!” Lisa exclaimed, taking them and inhaling their scent.

Hanschen didn’t know what to say, but he was saved by the appearance of a tall man who looked just like Ernst.

“I told your mother you’d been eating,” Ernst’s dad said, pulling his son into a brief hug before turning to Hanschen and extending his hand to shake.  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, son.”

“It’s so nice to meet you guys too.”

Ernst noticed Hanschen notice all the people gathered in the living room and put a hand on the small of his boyfriend’s back.  “Let’s go hang our coats up,” he offered, guiding Hanschen to the closet.

“I need a vase,” Lisa realized, turning to look at a shelf in the kitchen in despair.  “And do you think I should put these both out?” She examined the rye breads, feeling the weight of them in her hands.

“Of course you should.  One for me and one for the rest of you,” Mr. Robel joked, trying to grab one out of her hands.

“Don’t you dare,” his wife scolded, patting his protruding belly.  “Ernst, why don’t you show your boyfriend off to everyone and then we’ll eat?”

“Yes, please,” Ernst agreed, grabbing Hanschen’s hand tightly.  Hanschen had to fight his instinct to pull away and avoid PDA in front of family members.  These people accepted him, he had to remember that.  “My cousin Anna is going to die when she sees your jawline, she’s been bringing hot guys home for ever.  The tables have turned, this year I’m the only one with a date,” Ernst whispered as he lead Hanschen through the foyer and into the living room.

“Wait, am I supposed to be charming or hot?” Hanschen asked.  “I’m confused.”

“Um, both, obviously.”

“Right, right.  So just be myself.”

“Exactly.”  Ernst kissed Hanschen’s cheek, but their moment was ruined by an onslaught of relatives.  Hanschen shook everyone’s hand and did his best to remember names.  Somebody put a glass of red wine in his hand, which he sipped thankfully.

After meeting five cousins, three sets of aunts and uncles, and a pair of grandparents (who definitely were both charmed and impressed by Hanschen), everyone was ushered to the dining room table, which was set with the Robels’ best china and a centerpiece composed of tinsel dreidels and gelt.

“My mother has pulled that horrendous thing out every year since I was like ten,” Ernst informed Hanschen, wiggling to get into his seat at the tightly packed table.

“It’s cute,” Hanschen argued, watching the light reflect of the gold plastic.

“You’re cute,” Ernst countered.  Hanschen laughed, his mood lightened by the wine and the friendly conversations that were being held by various subsections of the family.

“A toast!” Mr. Robel called, holding up his wine glass.  “To family, old and new.  The true miracle of Chanukah every year is that we get to spend it together.”

A chorus of sarcastic awing went up around the table, but everyone clinked their glasses together anyway.

Ernst’s grandma set the food in motion, passing each dish around the table.  Hanschen piled his plate with corned beef, rye bread, applesauce, brussels sprouts, and his first ever latkes.

“I can’t believe you’ve never had one of these,” Ernst said, spreading sugar over his potato pancakes.

“Why would I have?” Hanschen asked, watching.  “Is that how you eat them?”

“They sell them at Trader Joe’s!”  Ernst passed the sugar to Hanschen, who looked at him incredulously.  “Sugar is my favorite way, but you can also do applesauce.  Or sour cream, which is gross.  Or skip the rye bread and just use the latkes to make a sandwich.  But I got the bread from the best bakery I could find, so…”

“Sugar it is.”  Hanschen mimicked Ernst and sprinkled sugar onto his latke.

“Count of three?” Ernst suggested, and they counted down together before taking their first bites.

“God, that’s good!” was all Hanschen had time to say before Lisa was pouring him more wine and asking him to explain what exactly a gallery director spent all day doing.

Hanschen ate until his stomach felt like it was going to burst.  He was amazed that the Robels didn’t talk about politics once, and whenever someone raised their voice it was only to get a dish passed down the table.  Instead they talked about movies (Grandma Carrie loved Moana but Gramps preferred Ghostbusters), distant family members that were posting scandalous things on Facebook (someone’s second cousin was pregnant again), and where the youngest Robels were considering going to college.  When the latke plate was cleared of every last scrap, Lisa deemed the meal over.

“Candles?” she suggested, an idea which was met with hearty agreement.

Hanschen found Ernst’s hand under the table and squeezed it, and he smiled to himself when Ernst didn’t let go after they stood up.

“Shoot,” Lisa sighed, putting a candle into the farthest right holder of each of the seven different menorahs that were lined up on tinfoil that had been spread onto the piano.  “I forgot a lighter.”

Hanschen took advantage of the following cacophony that consisted of ten family members weighing in on the best way to start a fire to lean in and whisper a question to Ernst.  “Why seven?”

“When we were all kids we always wanted to light our own candles, and my mom just kept the tradition going.  It’s actually more fun now that I’m not terrified of fire.”

“But there’s six of you guys, aren’t there?”  Hanschen did a quick sweep of the room, worrying he’d forgotten about a cousin amidst the chaos of the night.

“One’s for you.”  Ernst said it like it was obvious, like it wasn’t an enormously huge deal that the Robels had the foresight to include Hanschen in their special family tradition.

“Look who’s here!” one of the cousins (Hanschen thought it was Georg, but he wasn’t sure) declared, and everyone turned to see a cat creeping his way into the room.  Hanschen had forgotten the Robels had a cat, he hadn’t seen him all night.  Ernst immediately leaned down and reached his hand out.

“Othello never misses a Chanukah,” one of the aunts explained to Hanschen.  “He’s the shyest cat in the world, usually won’t ever come near you otherwise, but he never misses a Chanukah.”

“How does he know?” Hanschen asked, watching his boyfriend stroke the cat’s velvety ears.

“We don’t ask.  We’re pretty sure that’s the true miracle of Chanukah, he just always knows.”

“It makes a better story than oil,” an uncle (the aunt he was talking to’s husband? The more wine Hanschen sipped the less he could keep track) chimed in, and Hanschen laughed.

Lisa had finally found a lighter and was passing a candle to each of the cousins.  Ernst had left Othello to his own devices and was laughing at something his youngest cousin had said.  He turned to Hanschen.

“You coming?” Ernst called.  Hanschen weaved through relatives to stand next to Ernst and gratefully accepted his little blue candle.  They passed the lighter down the line, each of the seven lighting their shamash candle and holding it to the wick of the candle Lisa had put in their respective menorahs.  When all seven menorahs were glowing softly, the family put their hands over their eyes and recited the first prayer.

Hanschen proudly knew every word to the blessing of the candles, and he wasn’t sure if it was the fire or the company that was making him feel so warm and comfortable.  They got through the blessing for the Chanukah miracle next, without a single slip up on Hanschen’s part, and then there was a lull.  Hanschen could hear shuffling, and he uncovered his eyes to see some of the Robels doing the same.

“We say the third one,” Ernst’s dad reminded them.

“No, I think it’s just the two,” Gramps disagreed.

“This happens every year!” an aunt complained, and then everyone seemed to form a strong opinion on the matter.

Before fighting could break out, Hanschen chimed in.  “Actually,” he said, “you say three on the first night.  The other nights are just the two, but tonight it’s all three.”

“Wow,” Grandma Carrie said to Ernst, squeezing his arm, “your goy knows his Hebrew.”

“Non-Jew,” Ernst explained to Hanschen, who wasn’t sure whether to be proud or offended.  “She means no harm.”

Everyone covered their eyes again and recited the Shehecheyanu, the third prayer.  Othello joined in this time, adding a few meows to the chorus of voices, and most of the cousins dissolved into giggles before getting to “Amen”.

“Okay, presents for everyone in a minute!” Lisa announced, pulling a wrapped box from behind the menorahs, “But this one first.”

“Othello!” Ernst exclaimed, and the cat rubbed itself against his legs.  Lisa crouched down and ripped the paper open, uncovering a fairly large box, which she opened to reveal… nothing.

Hanschen wanted to ask why the box was empty, but nobody else seemed surprised.  He looked around at the faces of a family waiting in anticipation, and then heard a crinkling sound.

When he looked down, Othello was pawing at the discarded wrapping paper, a look of pure joy on his furry face.  “He used to always claim ours, so we finally started getting him his own.  It’s his favorite thing in the world, he waits for this all year,” Ernst explained.  “And just wait, it gets better.”

The cousins were all ready to catch it on camera when Othello climbed into the box and circled around a few times before settling down to purr himself to sleep, and Hanschen couldn’t help but pull out his phone and snap a few pictures himself, which made Ernst beam with pride.

***

Hanschen couldn’t remember ever being as happy after a holiday as he was when he laid down in Ernst’s teenage bedroom, fully dressed and stuffed with good food and wine.  He kept thinking about the Picasso history book and beautiful cufflinks that had been labeled with his name and worked into the heaping pile of blue and silver wrapped presents downstairs.  He knew the Robels must have conferred with Ernst when he told them Hanschen was coming, and it made his heart swell that they cared enough to get him something personal rather than regifting a scented candle they found in a cupboard somewhere.

Ernst had fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, and Hanschen was admiring him and thinking his night absolutely could not get any better when he heard the door creak open and watched as Othello jumped onto the bed and curled up between him and his boyfriend.

Hanschen reached out and stroked the cat’s head.  “Happy Chanukah,” he whispered, before drifting off into a blissful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays!
> 
> My cats are truly obsessed with Chanukah so I guess this fic is inspired by/dedicated to them lol.
> 
>  
> 
> As always, I love feedback! Hit me up here or on Tumbler where I am hernstofficial.


End file.
